


On the outside, looking in

by Maewn



Series: Red thread, white Crystal [4]
Category: Kingdoms of Amalur
Genre: F/M, Gen, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:53:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26382196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maewn/pseuds/Maewn
Summary: Outsider perspectives on the High King of Winter and the High Queen of Spring.
Relationships: Cydan/Fateless One (Kingdoms of Amalur)
Series: Red thread, white Crystal [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1218288
Kudos: 12





	1. Gaerhart

“What’s got the Fae all in a snit?” Elsa asks, peering around the corner of her house to watch the long procession of Fae glide past.

“No idea,” Emma, her sister, answers. “Maybe Lanna knows, she’s Fae.”

“Yeah, but she’s also weird,” Elsa says, making a face. The Fae has lived in Gaerhart for almost eight centuries if what the elders say is true, since the Fae called Aery left to join a different Court.

“Fae are all weird,” Emma says, “Do you want an answer or not?”

Lanna does in fact know, but she is also busy, fluttering about her hollow quick as a bird on the wing.

“It’s a wedding of grand proportions!” Lanna cries, “And her Majesty has asked me, _me_! To bring rose petals to the wedding! Oh, it’s so exciting! We haven’t had such an event since the marriage of King Mara to the High Queen Laswynn!

“And who is getting married?” Elsa asks, impatient.

“Why the High King of Winter!” Lanna says, darting down to stare at Elsa with her bright beady eyes that remind Elsa uncomfortably of a spider’s. “He and the High Queen of Spring are to be married at long last!”

“Long engagement, then?” Emma pipes up.

“Oh yes,” Lanna says, flitting back up to resume…whatever it was she was doing when Elsa and Emma had found her. “You see, the King has long courted her Majesty, and when she entered her long sleep, he stood watch, protecting her from harm.”

Lanna sighs, “Oh, if only I had a love as deep as that.”

“Weren’t you courting that one maiden from Winter?” Emma asks.

“That was a fling, darling,” Lanna says, waving one hand airily. “Honestly, you mortals… _courting_ is an entirely different process. Besides, their Majesties have courted for nearly twelve centuries, which by our standards is a respectable length of time indeed.”

“I did not know that you had guests, Lanna,” a soft, warm voice calls from the entrance of the hollow and Lanna shrieks in dismay.

“Oh no, Your Majesty, my hollow is not a fit sight for your eyes!” she wails. “Why did you not tell me you were coming to visit?!”

There are a few Fae crowded together, and one strides forwards, smiling gently at Lanna.

She is tall and slender, clothed in a gown of palest white and silver, gems glistening at the edges like dewdrops and with a crown of white birch resting atop her pale golden hair. White and pink roses dot the branches of the crown.

Elsa thinks that this must be the Queen of Spring, as all the other Fae she’s ever seen wear the brighter colors of Summer.

“Just a quick visit, Lanna,” the Queen says brightly, “my love and I are returning to the Losii, for the temperament of Spring agrees more with his Majesty than that of Summer.”

She looks over her shoulder, gaze directed to a tall Fae with white hair in dark armor, who is examining the hollow with a cold intensity, but glances towards her when she speaks and offers her a small smile.

“I trust your Majesties are well?” Lanna asks, curtseying.

“Well enough,” the King says, and his voice, like that of his bride’s, rings with power, “you did not tell me, my love, that you had friends in Summer.”

“I have many friends,” the Queen chides him gently, “Fae and mortal alike.”

Elsa and Emma watch the group, both a little awed and intrigued by these powerful Fae gathered so close together.

“Speaking of mortals,” the King says quietly, and the chill of his gaze lands on Elsa and Emma. “You are friends with Lanna also?”

“Sort of, your Majesty,” Elsa says, flushing. The High King of Winter is handsome, an alien kind of beauty stark in his sharp features. “We wanted to ask about the Fae procession outside town. We don’t see many Fae in these parts, your Majesty.”

“It is the first wedding of monarchs since the Great Betrayal,” the High King says, “An event that was the cause of much mourning and sorrow amongst the Winter Court, and now as the land has healed, and the Court of Spring will be wed to Winter, we may rejoice again. It is no surprise to us that so many Fae will be attending.”

“It would be rude of them not to attend, my love,” the Queen says softly, gliding over to touch his arm with one gossamer-clad hand.

“I am aware,” the King says pointedly.

The Queen smiles, twining their fingers together, “Then let us away, for there is still work aplenty before the joining of our Courts.”

The King sighs, “A pity that the work does not involve a blade.”

The Queen laughs. “Yes, it is. Lanna, try _not_ to be late.”

“Yes, your Majesty!” Lanna says, “I’ll do my best, your Majesty!”

The royals leave with hardly a sound, and in the distance, Elsa can just make out merry voices raised in song.

“Alright!” Lanna says brusquely, “Out, you two. I’ve got much work to do. Go about your business.”

Emma and Elsa quickly follow the Fae and exit the hollow.

Outside, the sun is shining, and the royal procession is already a dot on the horizon traveling northeast towards Rathir.

“Well, now we can say that we’ve met Fae royalty,” Emma says.

“Yeah,” Elsa says and shivers despite the warmth of the sun’s rays against her back. “Come on, we’ve still got to get the washing out of the house,” she says, pushing away the eerie feeling that had skittered down her spine when the King had looked at her.

If that was how all the Winter Court was, she was glad that she lived in a place where the Summer Court held sway.


	2. En’varra’losii, the place where Sorrows end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isca doesn’t mean to spy on their Majesties, really.  
> It just so happens that she’s gardening, and the lilies do need tending, they’re rather finicky and it is her duty and she can’t give that up, no.  
> And if their Majesties happen to be lounging in the nearby grove, well, Isca has ears.

Isca doesn’t mean to spy on their Majesties, really.

It just so happens that she’s gardening, and the lilies do need tending, they’re rather finicky and it is her duty and she can’t give that up, no.

And if their Majesties happen to be lounging in the nearby grove, well, Isca has ears.

“At least Titerion has things well in hand,” Her Majesty murmurs as the High King helps her down into the small hollow.

Her Majesty is as radiant as ever, bright in the height of Spring as she is. The roses on her crown glitter with dew, and her gown is the soft periwinkle blue that the High King so loves.

The two are well matched, Isca thinks, remembering their wedding centuries ago.

“He has been ruling for longer than either of us, my love,” the High King says.

“True,” Her Majesty replies, settling down, arranging her skirts about her, “Though you ruled Winter alone for a long time, whilst I slept.”

“That is true,” the High King says. “Though I missed your company dearly.”

Her Majesty giggles.

Isca suppress a sigh. Their Majesties do love one another, and are as affectionate in public as they are in private.

Rare is it that the two disagree, and rarer still are they apart from one another these days, but the Cycle still holds its sway, and there will come a time that the High King must depart the island to return to Winter, and Her Majesty will be most melancholy until she has gathered her power to make the journey to his side.

New as Her Majesty is, Isca knows, she is vulnerable when away from the seat of her power.

“You remember how we fought side by side during the Prismire War?” Her Majesty asks after a moment.

“Yes,” the High King says, a curious tone in his voice.

Isca shudders at the mention of that great calamity, the doom broken by the Godslayer herself. Isca had been of Winter then, slain in the push to Alabastra by Tuatha soldiers.

Reborn in Spring, she had settled rather nicely into her role. She misses Winter sometime, but Spring is a balm to her soul, warm and peaceful.

“I would like to fight alongside you again someday,” Her Majesty says. “To go traveling with you.”

“My love,” the High King begins.

“But,” Her Majesty says, “I fear it may be some time before I have the strength to do so.”

“I know,” the High King says, and Isca can see the sorrow on his handsome face as he takes the High Queen’s hand, pressing a gentle kiss to it, “One day you and I will go traveling, I promise.”

Her Majesty smiles, a radiant sight.

“I will hold you to that promise.”


End file.
